


Lift Those Heavy Eyelids

by izzyb



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Community: kink_bingo, F/M, Sleepy Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-05
Updated: 2010-06-05
Packaged: 2017-10-09 22:37:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/92335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/izzyb/pseuds/izzyb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She trusts him implicitly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lift Those Heavy Eyelids

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to sleepygoof8784 and fringedweller for the super-quick beta. Written for the sleepy/unconscious square on my [kink bingo card](http://izzyb.dreamwidth.org/1855.html)

Numbers and words are swimming before her eyes and she can feel her head doing that awkward nod, lift, nod that tells her that she's too tired to still be in the medical archives this late at night. It's not like this research is due anytime soon, but she'd only just gained access to this room in Starfleet Medical because one of the doctors thought it would be a _punishment_ to send her to do paperwork instead of deal with his irascible self.

Some punishment. She'd finished the required medical logs in record time and then spent an enjoyable two hours reading up on the history of brain surgery and all its failures and triumphs, including the particularly interesting contributions of McCoy.

_After a considerable amount of simulations, the team finds that this procedure will alter the way we look at the humanoid brain although there is still some need for experimentation._

He finds her there just as she's about to call it quits and lay her head down on the table. She hears the keypad beeping and then the door swishes open and he leans against the frame, one eyebrow raised.

"Sleeping?"

She rests her drooping head on one hand. "Took you long enough to find me."

"He's an idiot, but you shouldn't needle him."

"Got what I wanted, didn't I?"

He walks over to smooth a hand over her hair and sees what she's reading. "The surgery hasn't been tried yet--not sure it works."

"It will," she says and he snorts, pulling her hair down to fall to her shoulders with one quick twist of his hand.

"Blind faith," but he spins her around in the chair to lean down and kiss her briefly and efficiently, leaving her lips tingling.

"There's never been anything that says I shouldn't put my trust in you."

*

Christine's sprawled on her stomach, arms folded under her head, in the middle of nowhere, a place that reminds her of the field surrounded by trees in which she used to spend lazy summer afternoons picnicking with her sisters as a child. Later, she visited with boyfriends in high school and turned childhood games into something a lot more adult on blankets in the soft, soft grass. The grass now tickles her ear and the sun's rays warm her legs and arms and the back of her neck, a cool breeze floats in from somewhere and it's just so warm, so safe so--

The scene changes and she's underwater, arms pushing through the resistance to propel her gently through. She doesn't need to breathe, doesn't have to worry because it's so peaceful so freeing so--her arms stop moving, green things reaching out to encircle her wrists and ankles. As she feels water flowing into her open mouth and eyes, she realizes she's naked and the water isn't water and the green things are vines that are twisting up to tickle her pleasantly, no make that intensely, between her legs and that she's wet, so wet--

She gasps as she resurfaces from her dreams--vivid ones brought on by falling asleep with images of that drama she'd chosen for them to watch set in a damned brothel of all things, not to mention her worry about the test results posted tomorrow. Her muscles are bunched and tense, her heart pounding out of her chest, and her legs and arms immobile from being held down by strong arms. She has a hard cock grinding into her scantily-covered ass and hot breath against her neck.

Tearing her mind away from the immediate problem of wanting him inside her _now_, taking care of this ache, she remembers. Not only did she fall asleep during the sweeping early twentieth-century drama, but also while McCoy was putting the moves on her--and doing it well, making her flush and tremble and begin to climb the slippery slope to climax with his fingers inside her and his teeth on her ear. He'd paused in his groping to gape as the main character in the movie broke into song and she'd passed out on his chest before he could resume after the heroine had kissed the hero to a dramatic crescendo, the long shift they'd survived in their own ways and the necessary glass of wine she'd gulped down at day's end taking its toll.

Christine wriggles beneath him now, her eyes still closed, then hooks her foot behind his calf to let him know she _knows_ what he's doing, that she's on board, but he just grunts and pushes her more firmly to the bed with hands on her hips.

Well, fuck. Not that she doesn't appreciate the enthusiasm, but now she's throbbing a pulsing heartbeat between her legs and she can't move where she needs to and if he could just adjust his knee a little higher, yes there. God. She clenches her thighs around him tightly, riding his leg, tilting up her ass as he flips up her skirt (she'd never even undressed--how the hell did they make it to the bed?) and moves aside her panties to thrust inside her, deeply. It's a little rough as she's wet, but not as wet as she usually gets from the foreplay he likes to put her through--usually with both his tongue and his fingers--before letting her come. For the first time. After that, he's much more generous.

He still doesn't say anything as he moves and she follows suit, taking all he gives her with quiet moans into the pillow he's thrusting her face into--making her bite it to keep from yelling out, as if he might stop if she does.

She wriggles and pushes back up into him to make him go deeper and he groans and mumbles something against her hair that she can't hear, but the gasps he's letting loose make her think he's close to coming. That pisses her off because he's made her all hot and bothered and she can't even move her arms because he's holding her wrists and he's going to come and be satisfied and she's going to be frustrated.

Although it's exciting when he does come, because it's with fingers digging so hard into her arms that she knows there will be bruises she'll have to hide and she's going to love them, even though he's going to be gentle with her tomorrow and look at her with the frown he often gets when he's angry with himself and projecting it onto her. He pushes once, twice, letting go of his death-grip on her arms as he collapses boneless on top of her, not bothering to pull out.

There's just enough room for Christine to slide up one leg and reach down with a shaking hand to finger herself to climax, twitching around him and biting her lip as she shudders it out and passes out under him, a little shaky.

*

Leonard doesn't remember it in the morning and, just as she expected, eyes her with something akin to apology before she kisses him and smacks him lightly on the shoulder before heading to the shower to make herself presentable for class.

There is nothing blind about her faith in him, because even if he doubts himself, she never does.

And she doesn't let him heal the bruises either.


End file.
